Fae Song EPUB

by Williams , Deonne

  Baron Holger had a Kincaran huntsman who taught me 124

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  archery.”

  “You know how to shoot a bow?”

  “I know how to shoot a Kincaran stag bow,” Gwynn corrected, trying not to stare at the muscles rippling across his back and broad shoulders while he pulled his shirt off.

  “A Kincaran stag bow is almost as long as you are tall.”

  “I haven’t drawn a bow in years, but I did hold my own hunting with the Baron’s sons and later in Inishmore.”

  “Well, then I’m going to find a bow for you, although something more compact than a Kincaran stag bow.” Shae deliberated for a moment, “Maybe a short limbed horse bow.

  I had already planned on teaching you basic self-defense anyway; I think we could find something to suit you.”

  “Self-defense is what I have you for, and I don’t think I could shoot at a person!” Gwynn exclaimed.

  “Part of keeping you safe means teaching you to take care of yourself.”

  “I’m tired, so I won’t continue this discussion right now, but you have not won.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “You sound just like Harlan,” she giggled.

  “Who is Harlan, a former lover?”

  “Harlan ap Ewan? Oh gods, no!” she squealed, her cheeks turning pink. “We never got along; we couldn’t be in the same classes. Put us in the same room, and we would argue about everything or nothing.”

  “So, I should expect you to continue being difficult about taking better care of yourself?”

  “Harlan isn’t here, so I will do my best to behave and listen.”

  “And I will do my best to remember how hard that is for you to do.”

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  The faint glimmer on the eastern horizon provided all the light Shae needed to pack his saddlebags and leave them in the front room. He startled the cook when he slipped into the kitchen to arrange their trail rations before heading for the stables. The ostler directed him to a farrier a few streets over, and he used the opportunity to begin training Rogue to follow Talon on command. Given Rogue’s attentiveness to treats, Shae didn’t expect it to take more than a few, and it was something that could prove useful in the future.

  The shoeing took less time than normal, because Talon behaved for a change. The destrier’s one fault was that he had never been cooperative about having new shoes put on. When Shae held him, Talon rarely did more than refuse to pick up a foot until his master gave him a sharp verbal correction, but if he walked away, farriers had been known to go sailing through the air from the stallion’s protests. This morning, Talon lifted his feet obediently and stood quietly while Rogue napped through most his shoeing. Heading back to the inn, Shae was pleased to find that Rogue placed his nose next to his stirrup and followed without him having to tug on the lead. The next step would be to get the gelding to respond to a verbal command from a distance, something they could work on while traveling. When Shae got back to the inn, he told the ostler to have both horses ready to leave after they were fed. That would give him plenty of time to wake Gwynn and have breakfast.

  Instead, she was already in her riding leathers and halfway through her meal. “Good morning,” she chirped at Shae when he entered the door. “Do you want some tea?

  Corwyn just left. He said to tell you farewell and that he hopes to see us in Samhayne.”

  “You’re bright-eyed this morning,” he observed, accepting a cup from her. “Why the change?”

  “The sun is out, and there is a long road in front of 126

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  me. Nothing suits a bard more.”

  When they went to fetch their saddlebags, Gwynn’s were on the floor next to his own. “Harkir’s Forge, how long have you been up?”

  “Only an hour or so. I also asked the stable boys to fill our grain bags, but I left our provisioning to you; I don’t know what a Southron can survive on.”

  “I took care of that before I left with the horses.”

  After their provisions were safely stowed, Shae took the bags out to the stables while Gwynn settled their account. Shae was waiting in the yard with the horses when she opened the door. Gwynn hung her new lute from the front rings of her saddle where the old one had once traveled. Rogue turned his head, bumped the case with his nose, and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Oh Rogue, it’s not that heavy. You act like I’m overburdening you. Will this make it better?” Gwynn pulled a carrot from her pouch. Rogue stretched to take it, but Talon dropped his head over her arm and pulled it out of the gelding’s reach. She laughed and snapped it in two, offering half to Rogue and half to Talon.

  Shae watched the exchange and sighed like Rogue. “I won’t have you softening up my war horse. Southronbreds are not supposed to beg for treats like a child’s spoiled pony.”

  “Whatever you say, venchar.”

  The ride to the southern gate of Mazlo was quick, and before long, they passed through the wall to find a few pack trains and wains already on the road. Shae led the way to the wide grassy area that bordered the paved road saying, “The horses are fresh. Let’s get around this mess, and we’ll have the road to ourselves.” Talon and Rogue settled into an easy canter with little urging from their riders.

  When they were far in front of the lead pack train, 127

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  they slowed their horses and stepped back onto the pavement. It was a balmy morning with only a few fluffy clouds on the eastern horizon, and a light breeze filled with the scents of spring whispered from the Stalencraes behind them. The River Road gleamed in front of them like a shining white ribbon, companioned in blue by the flooding Dinar at the foot of the bluffs.

  Gwynn breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Ariadwen for the long road and a friend to share it; a bard’s life could be no better.

  128

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gwynn was amused by the wide-eyed looks Shae drew from the inhabitants of the small villages they rode through that morning. “They act as if you are going to eat them,” she laughed when they left the most recent village behind.

  “They always do. I have absolutely no idea why.” He feigned an innocent expression, but Gwynn took a long look at her formidable friend.

  “Me either. What in the Mother’s name would be frightening about you? You’re only head and shoulders taller than most men in Meran. You ride a horse bigger than the ones they use to pull plows, and you carry enough steel to start your own forge. What could be frightening about you?”

  “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose they might find me a bit unnerving,” Shae conceded with one of his rare dazzling smiles.

  “Perhaps a bit,” Gwynn agreed, her heart skipping a beat at the sight.

  Near the time they were considering a stop for lunch, they came upon yet another village. This one was larger than the others and proved to have an inn. It was the kind common in rural Meran; it had no rooms for travelers, only space on the common room floor for a few coppers a night.

  It was primarily a gathering place for the locals to share a pint or two at the end of a long day tending their crops and 129

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  herds. Gwynn wrinkled her nose when they dismounted.

  Shae saw her expression. “Is there something here you don’t like?”

  “No, small village inns are wonderful around midday for a nice warm meal and a chance to stretch your legs. I just don’t care for the accommodations. I would rather camp in the cold than sleep on the floor in a room full of strangers.

  It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “I think in the future you won’t be quite so bothered in the same situation,” Shae said while they tied the horses,

  “but I too prefer to camp, unless the weather is foul. At that point, any roof is preferable to none.”

  During their meal, Gwynn listened to the conversations around her. The locals were concerned about the damage the rain had done to their field
s, but most of the crops were already in the ground and the loss was minimal.

  Here, the bottomland along the river was used for grazing, and the livestock had been moved to higher ground when the water began to rise. Overall, they seemed to consider themselves fortunate.

  The afternoon’s ride was much the same, except that the villages became less frequent. Since the weather was good and the horses were still fresh from the days of rest, Shae suggested that they ride until close to sundown.

  “It doesn’t take us long to see to the horses and find firewood. Why waste daylight when we can use it for traveling?” The sun was a handspan from the horizon when they reached a racing stream barely contained within its banks. After watering the horses, Shae led the way downstream instead of crossing the bridge. “I prefer to camp a little way off of the well-traveled roads; less chance of being disturbed.” They followed the stream for half a league, stopping in a hollow after they put a hill between themselves and the road. “This works. I’ll look after the horses if you 130

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  want to start a fire. I’m not sure how easy that will be after days of rain, but we only need it for light and warming your tea.”

  “I can make a fire in a thunderstorm; soggy kindling won’t even slow me down.”

  “It is not necessary to remind me about things of that nature.”

  “As you wish venchar.” After they ate, Shae leaned against his saddle while Gwynn idly strummed her lute.

  “Now tell me of your time with the Wolf Lady of Hasdran.

  You promised and I have been very patient.”

  “You are right. I did promise,” he admitted. “I spent two years in Hasdran, most of it in the capital city of Ranleven, and all of it in the royal household. I was part of the Wolf Lady’s Fian, which is what they call the royal guard .

  It was interesting because it was Hasdran, but eventually, I found living in a royal household didn’t agree with me. Laef and his Oath-mate Shelah stayed on, but I left Ranleven a little over four years ago.”

  “What did you do after that?”

  “I had some short-term work, spent useful time in the arena. My last position was with one of the Caeross mining camps; I led the company that escorted gem shipments and gold for payroll. It was a two-year agreement, which ended a few seven-nights before we uh, met.”

  “The first time you informed that exciting things can sometimes be unhealthy. I will try to heed your words of wisdom.”

  The next several days followed much the same pattern; they rode until late every day, stopping shortly before sundown. The few others they met along the road were mostly farmers going to their fields or moving their livestock. Late one morning, they lay in fresh supplies from one of the larger villages. It sported a tidy two-story inn and 131

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  Gwynn stared with longing at it.

  “Tired of the hard ground, lady bard?” Shae teased.

  “Tired of feeling grubby,” she sighed.

  “We camp by a stream every night. Won’t cold water get bards clean? It works fine for Southrons.”

  “Not when it’s in full muddy spate! I’d be dirtier from the water than I am from the dust.”

  “Stone paving makes for little dust.”

  “Aren’t you the funny man?”

  “If we keep riding, tomorrow night we will be in Tarbel, and you can pick whichever inn suits your fancy. You can take two baths if you want.” Shae’s reasonable tone swayed Gwynn like no other argument could have.

  “Why is it you have all the right answers?”

  “Because you pay me to make sure you have them.”

  Gwynn dropped Rogue’s reins on his neck and took out her reed flute. A mournful tune began to permeate the air, and Shae grinned when he recognized the folksong. In the Shepherd’s Lament the title character bemoaned the lack of a sturdy roof and a soft bed while he watched over his flock.

  “You are incorrigible.”

  She lowered her flute in feigned remorse. “You shame me with your accusation. However, since it is founded in truth, I shall let it pass.”

  “How generous. I’m right, so you will let it pass. How about this? We’ll stop early tonight, so you still have light, find a stream that’s not full of mud, and I’ll go hunt some rabbits while you try to get less grubby. Will that do until we can find you a bath with hot water?”

  “Perfectly.” By now, the town was behind them, and their view of the road winding toward the horizon was unobstructed. Gwynn pointed ahead. “I’ll give up a few hot baths for the chance to see where it leads.”

  Late in the afternoon, Shae began to look for a 132

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  camping spot that would live up to his promise. This portion of Meran flattened, so it would be harder to find a hill to put between them and the road. When a distant darker green haze on the southern horizon turned into a line of trees marking a ravine with a stream at the bottom, things seemed more encouraging. The rains had not been severe this far south of Mazlo, and the water ran clear, chattering over the rocks in the streambed. In the burgeoning spring shadow of the trees, the white stonework of the bridge glistened where it was not covered with moss. When they drew near the bridge crossing, Gwynn halted Rogue and dismounted.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gwynn dropped Rogue’s reins and brushed off a patch of moss on the bridge railing. She studied it for a moment and then exclaimed, “Just as I thought, this isn’t Khymerian stonework.”

  “The Empire’s engineers built this road. How can it not be Khymerian?” Shae inquired, but he hopped off Talon and came over to where Gwynn stood.

  “Does that look like imperial masonry work to you?”

  She was pointing to the area of stone she had brushed off.

  Shae studied it for a moment, ancient and weathered, though there were swirls carved into the stone. He bent closer and the swirls resolved themselves into intricate knots and beasts. He looked over at Gwynn where similar knots and beasts gazed back at him from the strap of her harp case.

  “No, I would say it looks more like Inishmore stonework.

  Would you care to enlighten me?”

  “Of course, although it’s a long story. The bridge was here before the road. The Empire just made use of it. It tells me there is probably a perfect camping spot nearby. Follow me.” Shae trailed Gwynn when she picked up Rogue’s reins and crossed the bridge on foot. On the other side, she 133

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  paused for a moment, tilted her head like she was listening for something and then turned right off the road. Gwynn was following what appeared to be an old game trace, winding through the trees and over rocks. The trail curved sharply to the right along the wall of the ravine. Here, the track led across a stone ledge projecting above the stream before switching back to the left. Talon picked his way carefully; the ledge was a little narrow for the stallion’s liking, but he followed Shae obediently through the tight turn.

  Once around the bend, the track widened next to the stream, and in places, more white stonework glimmered through moss and leaves while ahead sunlight glowed in a clearing. They entered a broad, flat glade where the turf grew in a lush, closely cropped, green carpet like that of a noble’s garden. Massive oak and hawthorn trees rose on either side like the pillars of a great hall. At the far end loomed a bare golden rock face, and at its base, a spring roared, the water rising Shae’s height into the air like a fountain. He stopped a few steps into the clearing and gazed around him. It had the air of an ancient outdoor temple belonging to a long-forgotten people, and there was a hush around them, like they stood outside the world.

  “Not everyone has forgotten them, and we stand closer to their world than ours.” Shae started at the sound of Gwynn’s voice. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just that here, thoughts can sometimes echo as loudly as spoken words. I promise not to listen anymore, and I promise to explain it all.”

  “To my complete satisfaction,” Shae insi
sted past clenched teeth.

  “Truly, I am sorry; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. What if I take the horses and make camp?”

  she offered, reaching for Talon’s reins. “I’ll get the fire started, get cleaned up, and you go hunt some dinner.”

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  Shae eyed her before taking his snares from his saddlebag. He looked around for a moment. “Something tells me that I should go hunt on the other side of the bluff.”

  “Nothing should be hunted here.” Gwynn’s voice had an authoritative tone, and so he set off back toward the trail.

  When Shae returned an hour later, the horses were grazing near a crackling fire on a large, flat stone at the far end of the glade. Gwynn sat next to it, braiding her hair.

  They prepared dinner and ate under the shadow of the cliff in almost complete silence while it grew dark. Shae had been patient long enough. “Well?”

  “The people who made this place are not as forgotten as you seem to believe. I would wager even Southrons have heard of the Pathani.”

  Shae’s eyebrow shot up. There were legends common throughout Balahar of an ancient race of mystic immortals, called Pathani, who had dwelt in beautiful golden-roofed cities before mortals learned to record their thoughts in writing. “I was told stories about them as a child, but no one believes they are real.”

  “The Pathani are real. We are camped in a Pathani rel ar.” At her words, Shae’s hand strayed toward his sword, and Gwynn laughed when she saw the movement. “Don’t worry; this rel ar probably hasn’t been used since before the first Emperor was on the throne, and even if it was, the Pathani would not harm us. Once, this place would have been filled with song and feasting under the stars; all that magic is still here.”